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  1. Khaidu had returned to work promptly after his water break, wasting no time in laboring away. That is.. until the cry of a heifer found his ears. Compelled by curiosity and the ever-growing interest of encountering his own kind on the Path, he stopped his work to investigate. The beastmanthing proceeded to sniff and listen for any further vocalizations as he moused his way through the construction sites. Soon enough, he came upon Cinderella, who seemed to be in some form of suffering. A hooved dig into the earth announced his presence as he looked at her. A splinter? His hands were no good, and he bore no equipment pack on his person. His immediate thought was to find a nearby worker and hassle them into helping the female. Which he did. In minutes, he had wrangled a reluctantly willing woman to follow him to Cindy with the means to remove splinters; a needle, a knife, and a bandage in case. The woman could not tell if it was going to be her version of a splinter or some monstrous version a minotaur might encounter. Khaidu gestured toward the woman he brought, looking Cindy at eye level as he nodded. "Heard you've got a Splinter."
  2. Maggie's ire stopped Saul in his tracks as he moved to shake the mage hand, immediately adjusting his robes and looking the rest of the group over. He almost laughed at the situation but kept it cool and comfortable by remaining composed. It was not uncommon for the more mundane to discourage magic. "Monsters and beasts always pose some form of challenge to slay, but here we all are. We should certainly make do. What more could you tell us about the Hydra you last faced? Anything peculiar or out of the ordinary that might have been passed to the present imitation? Is this one any different?" He pressed on with his curiosity, figuring he had quite literally asked for further questioning. The way Saul saw it, it was best to know all that one could. T'were a damn shame the doctor was dead. As far as information went, it was: a hydra, likely the offspring or sub-gradient of the Hydra of Taen's history; a madness that drew people into a frenzy of confusion and insanity, as observed whence looking to the scout upon his return from the plagued settlement in which his recon mission revolved around in the first place. Saul remained standing; dark eyes, whose limbal rings dared to waver and ripple as if his whole eye would go black as his iris, settled on Jared. It was a predatory gaze, but moreso analytical than anything. His mind, his eyes... it all seemed hungry. One could tell in the way he remained largely aware of his surrounding scene, be it glances or the vibrations in the floor from the clambering fools making themselves known to the world. New people were always a curiosity. Traveling to Taen from the Ouread was also a hell of a trip, with vast differences in the two realities.
  3. While earthen stairs rose to defend the beleaguered jailhouse, as well as outwardly attack the bandits in a matter of minutes, Yshmael had what he needed. In the moments following the workings of the Peacekeeper came the deliberations of one fiercely endowed Pilgrim. When the men became unnerved, The Nomad turned as he stood from his prostration to face them directly. Meanwhile, inside, Ysh had to deal with the rising panic of innocents and lowlevel criminals who were largely victim in all of this. "Hey mister, are you guys here on behalf of the Taen Kingdom?" asked a young woman, obviously scared for her life. This statement, instead of asking for Gaia herself, showed how dissolute the world had become in recent years. "We are here on behalf of Gaia. On the chance these offenders inconvenienced three good men who are now handling your problem. Stand firm and defend this space. Do not come down and do not interrupt our work." In this time following, Yshmael made his way to the space Matte had sought to defend from. The Endowed Agent pressed his hand to the stone and pushed through, willed by the Aspect that filled his body with its righteous energy. The stone did not break, but instead let him pass through to the outside. The stone rippled with energy that extended through to the walls of the building, fortifying it all on Behalf of the Mother(s, depending on your local interpretations of the fair Gaia!) of All. The bandits outside stared for a moment, stunned by the energy he put off. He walked among the viscera with indifference, stepping on recently-passed comrades cut down by the work of earthen beauty. If the minds of those who opposed him did not already lack confidence and a demoralized shadow, they would now. So much so, in fact, that it was like the man paralyzed them. His veins surged all over his body. Did he swell up? He seemed rather fit now. filling out his robes a bit, he drew his sword; it sang a tone that could be heard throughout the center of the town. It was a Song of Death, even if one did not know it. The blade bore an aura that dared to stop one in their tracks. His immediate radius was taxed by pressure as inscriptions on his flesh seemed to resonate power and a channel opened between himself and the Aspect of Preservation. The song struck the bandits to the core, which proved to rattle some enough that they no longer wished to fight.. the note.. the man.. this pressure? Who the hell was this guy?! "If this.. Mowgul... does not show himself.. Know this: To move against us is to move against the will of Gaia -- may you pass swiftly in your ignorance. If you submit and lay on the ground, you will not be slain. If you Stand against us, you will fall. Let this stand as a warning; this town, as well as all of this land, is under the Protection of Gaia." Again, the blade sang into the air as he twirled it in his hand. The wind seemed to be on his side as his body worked as an extension of higher forces. Some of the firmer minded banditry laughed it off, while some laid down and buried their faces. The religious and the fearful found the earth to be their home, even at the expense of being kicked or stepped on by surrounding comrades who disapproved. Suddenly the earth beneath his back foot erupted and he was off, bisecting men in his immediate vicinity whose firmer constitutions willed them to move beyond the paralytic aura. The energy found in one's movements seemed to feed the blade, to the point his every swing became stronger and stronger. Every clash of blade and countering dervish made brought wrath upon those near. Firearms and melees alike were handled and dealt with. The blade was swift enough to displace some of the fire coming upon him. What was not dodged was absorbed in the dance that was his Deathly Dervish and delivered to someone else through his blade. He had even resorted to grappling the now-victims that were the adversaries at hand into the way of impacts to protect himself. Molotovs aimed for the jailhouse and Yshmael set off prematurely, raining fire on all around the thrower; spells meant for him found their early fizzling or veering offcourse. In the case of energy or lightning, it was redirected through him and out of the blade or his hand to the nearest offender. Some men were unfortunate enough to have not been able to evade his wrath before having the chance to run away like others began to. Yshmael worked to destroy those who would raise their hand against him or the jailhouse in the next few minutes, effectively thinning the herd. The men of Goddard's bunch had either folded or perished, much like Joachim's men. Rinwell's folks were scattered and fewer than the rest now. The brave made men themselves had yet to even step toward the frontlines, watching from a distance the bloodshed weighing now on their shoulders. Enraged, They pressed with their personal battle party, horses stomping and pounding as other cavalry raced to break up the discord Yshmael now caused. "Not gonna die because of some Suujali Shithead!" shouted Goddard, roaring afterward as he trampled some of his own men. Joachim was less vocal and more about trying to find a good shot with his pistol. And alllll the way up, Lonnie trembled as he repeatedly failed to load his Crossbow.
  4. I figure Ysh will give whoever a chance to pipe up or run away. Mowgul as big wig like that is dope! Subdue or Scare Joachim and/or Goddard (Joachim would likely be smart enough to leave, but Goddard might be scared enough to desert) to have them send a message or they run away in this time as thing turn immediately into a meat grinder scene. Mowgul hitting the Wilds between major settlements because of their mild seclusion is prime, especially if something interesting can be obtained from the surrounding region. (Loot worthy resources 👀 ) Good deeds for people or we three to handle ! FIND THE MOWGUL
  5. Hey so I'm just gonna open up a can of whoop ass and you guys fill free to fill in any fight scenes you wanna do or dialogue. Thinning the herd and also moving as a focus for the enemies. Way i see it we can destroy any of them that do not yield. So if rooting the Mowgul out is the goal, this would be the time to speak up about it, from the bandit's perspective i mean. Leaders that dont wanna die, etc. Fess up hoes. I sadly run short on ideas for Mowgul T . T
  6. Hands returned into plain sight once more, free of weapons. Saul frowned at the condition the youth had been nurtured into. It was never alright to indoctrinate children into a lesser quality of life.. A scout for who knows in the middle of a forest? They'd walked miles at this point from any near civilized settlements. Words and names had power... He rattled off some shorthand bastardization of his name for the child to use if they so chose. "Kass.. and you are?" The male knelt on the ground meters from the young boy. Saul was more than capable of defense from the ground-up if it came to it, but he wished to appear as welcoming as possible. His eyes cut to Pyrrah in the distance, suggesting she keep her distance. "As they said, we are here for feathers.. but if you need help - we are here." He cracked a smile but did not let it blossom into something fuller. Sentiment feigned, he hoped to help lessen the tension for the child. He was never one eager to take care of children, but he had reservations about the neglect of them in any case.
  7. Yea tbh this was just a journey to Bi'le'ah to lsay fucking MONSTERS
  8. Dude I want nothing more to proceed withthings ive started. I have a hard time finding something I can apply myself to! I wanna build a true paladin outta Ysh. Work included u feel?
  9. As Jericho departed and Matte made off, The Thrice Blessed moved with the freshly liberated on and up through the lobby. A few managed to sift through the leftovers of Rinwell's men's weapons and tools. These men had been forced around for too long; they were ready to defend themselves if it meant staying out of cells in their own town again. Up above, Rinwell had an office that was through a smaller lobby and workspace in place of conventional loft space upstairs. The men around him were full of character! He certainly hoped to find himself in their presence again. His thoughts of the future tense became interrupted by Matte's re-entry. Yshmael He could not help but to shake his head as his thoughts were broken. Yshmael did not know what was more impressive: Jericho phasing out of the area or Matte taking a crossbow bolt in the midst of a call to productivity. "You almost seem like the victim here." A laugh followed before the Nomad turned to the men and began to ushered the coveted men of the town to remain upstairs. He headed down and looked. He moved to assess the wound of Matte's, but ultimately did not grab or touch it. The man seemed more than capable of taking care of himself, but he was present for support. Without a door, Ysh was pressed to the cover of the wall nearest the stairwell; it provided cover that did not lay him right on top of Matte whilst allowing a peek outside if he leaned well enough. If Matte had no use for him, he would retract into the open space above in the upper level with the to-be-defended men. "I got him!!" Cried Lonnie from his vantage point. He howled in excitement from it, unable to make Jericho out on the adjacent rooftop. "But did you kill him, shithead? Or did you expose yourself?" chided Kran, laughing at him. Diivon shuffled from the adrenaline of the crossbow being fired nearby and stayed a bit hushed. Lon shuddered at the thought of exposing himself and hunkered down on the rooftop. The two gaggles of goons in the other areas were receiving some bullshit pep rally and big worded talks about busting the skulls of whoever was ruining their occupancy of this town. "They've got the jail! They got Rinwell! But they ain't takin' all of US!!! There's no way! We are going to go down there and stomp this disturbance out! Joachim and his men on the South should be on their way to the Jail now!" Goddard did what he could to rouse his men - shouting, directing, encouraging. The result was the return cry of dozens of men. Firearms, weapons, rag-tag armor and defense tools. Down South.. Joachim had done osmething similar to a military briefing rather than a minuteman's pep rally. "We are moving in on the Jailhouse from the South. Keep those steps firm, boys - you don't want to go back to running the forest. We've made something for ourselves here! Fight for it!! " He barked these words at them and gestured them out of the middle of the road; they now followed behind a man on a horse headed north through the town to flank the jailhouse ransackers. No one was stepping on what they took for themselves. Townsfolk quaked in their beds as all the parties began moving en masse. Patrols were called inward and the remainder of Rinwell's men in the area were scrounging around, trying to get a good eye on the whereabouts of Rinwell. The explosion had their worries up, and the silence nearly confirmed things in their heads. They knew better to wait than to be butchered. In the meantime, Yshmael resorted to meditating, dropping to his knees and quietly invoking the support and attention of the Triad he and his people regarded so deeply. If heard, he and the fellow liberators would have the might of Gaia on their side, if she was not already. Yshmael was but a cup to be filled by their power - more specifically the aspect of Preservation.
  10. Over the days of scrubbing through image and video brought back following the infiltration, The Agents of Aphellion worked tirelessly. Most of them did well with being up for a while. Adaanai was among these fellows; if he felt unrested, he would simply feed his body energy from nearby sources - or even meditate when his shift was over to relax into rejuvenating himself. When it was his time, he did naught but observe. Plenty of peculiar things... Oddities here and there, but nothing jumped out to him that was relevant or surprising. Not a single thing had happened while he was watching the screen. Once it was over for him, he had gone to unwind and take in the elements. Adaanai bounded in within the early hours to the sounds and smells of Pavle cooking. It delighted Ada to have the prospect of work and breakfast. Sapping energy to one's benefit was endearing and sustainable, but food was something he got to appreciate! Culturally, it was right up there with dancing and wrestling among the Huluin and Matreyan in general. The male, who stood over six foot, graced the floor with haste to see what Mal had found out about. "You say there's information? I cannot believe I sat and watched all that and you end up finding it." He chided, offering a bit of banter as his eyes moved from team members to the food at hand, all the way on until his feet delivered him by Mal's side. The prospect of work was just as enticing as food. The Conduit lived to move and venture out and explore - remaining stimulated was always refreshing. "Is there a location or anything this Draskovic is connected to?" His tone was more serious than his banter, but all the same curiosity drove him to press on with the questions.
  11. @vielle your turn 🤗 I’ll be posing for houndy until she returns if it’s alright!
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